


Lucky Number Seven

by Kadla



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Armitage Hux-centric, Fluff, M/M, POV First Person, POV Kylo Ren, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadla/pseuds/Kadla
Summary: Literally what Ren is thinking while Hux shouts at him.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	Lucky Number Seven

**Author's Note:**

> My first go on here.

I watch him walk towards me. Immaculate as always. He looks angry, but that just makes me smile inwardly. I know he has no idea what he does to me or the amount of self control I exert around him. The odd way the ship’s lights play over his hair distracts me from what he’s saying. I have a minor obsession with his hair, it is as chameleonic as his eyes - always changing. As I watch, some strands are very red, and some are almost white. I often wonder what he’d look like in the bright sunlight, but alas I’ve never seen him like that.  
“Are you listening to a word I’ve been saying??” I hear. Oops. I’m supposed to be verbally sparring with him. Maybe I should look mysterious?  
“I do not have time for your demands today, General,” I manage. Nice save, I think.  
His eyes meet mine, hidden behind my mask. They’re grey/green today, like sage. They’re beautiful. He’s speaking again and I watch his lips, they’re turned down currently. Agitated. I wonder often if he knows how distracting I find him. How exhilarating to talk to. I know he wants to be top dog of the First Order and he resents how much I’m in his way. I suppose it’s never occurred to him to try and make friends with me, to find an ally instead of a rival. Not his way. Yet I sense his loneliness. He is the king of masks, always pretending he’s fine, even when I think he’s falling apart.  
Sometimes I see him watching the crew interact in their off duty hours, like a starving child pressing his nose against the glass of a patisserie, seeing all the delights he is unable to experience. The irony of watching him being lonely and being lonely myself. I’ve thought many times about approaching him, but I can already see how he would stiffen and leave, huffing his disappointment in even my small attempt at humanity. He would also then shun the experience having been seen and I would lose these small, deeply personal insights into him. How emotionally invested he is in Mikita’s flirtations with the blond ensign. The way he smiles when he sees two people express genuine affection. The furrow between his two brows when he’s trying to understand, or even the way his teeth worry his lip when he’s thinking.  
When we interact, however, it’s always sparring, always wary. Yet to stand this close to him and make a note of his eyes and hair. I wonder, briefly, if he would be annoyed or pleased to know I have a book in which I keep a colour tracker of his eyes: sometimes blue, sometimes grey, often green. I’d love to think they were green with affection or attraction, but he has never seen my face. The most interesting emotion he expresses openly around me is the odd look of surprise when the conversation veers from its predetermined path, well, the one he had in his head. I keep an active track of the six times I’ve managed this feat. Again, he’s looking at me for a response. I manage to jerk my head in a curt nod and he gives me that look. I sigh inside….. Lucky number seven.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
